a collective dream journal project

Author Archives

I’m back in Viet Nam in a house which looks more like a cave-like clay hut. Some girl (and her father?) is with me and painting the walls in dusky pink and bright red. The walls are too soggy for the paint and I think the typical light green one would be better. The wallpaper is soaked and the coat won’t become even, but I’m telling the girl that it’s alright.

I’m in the locker room of a public swimming pool but it looks more like a youth hostel dorm.
I’m talking to a fellow student about how fast I usually swim and what the record at this pool is.

In my dream I’m telling someone about the dream I just had: from a bird’s eye perspective I see a row of houses on an elongated island in a river. I know I’m in Vienna, Austria. I’m smoothly flying or rather gliding by the houses and over the water. I can see that one of the houses is in fact a stage-like building on the water with a huge advertisement for a German electronics supplier. I continue my air glide towards the mountains in front of me, everything looks extremely 3D and feels intense. I suddenly am in a room where everything, floor, ceiling and walls, are made from dark mirroring material. In the middle of the room stands an opulently decorated Christmas tree.

As I’m telling the person all about the dream (the 3D effect and details) and come to the point, “…and in the middle of the room…,” he/she ends the sentence “…stood a Christmas tree.” I’m highly excited that the person has had the same dream, but then someone tells me that they put psychedelic mushrooms in the cookies I had eaten before. I’m extremely disappointing and angry that the wonderful feeling of gliding and the 3D effect didn’t come from deep inside me, and that I didn’t have the precious experience of a shared dream, but that someone just drugged me and injected the pictures. ☆

I’m now in a squatted house in Berlin with a friend. There’s some other people and we are waiting for a concert. There’s several rooms and empty door frames, lots of couches everywhere. We wander around and look for a good place to stand and see the band. But we can’t find the stage. I feel like I’m in a labyrinth. ☆

There’s a lush landscape with a weirdly shaped long basin which doesn’t look natural. Steps go down to where at first there is impressively green grass I can see from above. I’m now in the basin and it’s flooded with grayish water. Pieces of wood and furniture and boats float in the water. ☆

I’m now in a medical practice (perhaps I entered via footbridge from the flooded basin) and lying on a cot. I’m not wearing pants so I guess I’m waiting for a gynecological examination. I don’t like the male doctor from the beginning. As I’m lying there half-naked I can see that he didn’t close the door and people who walk by could see me. I’m angry because my privacy is invaded and the doctor doesn’t care. I want to complain about his behavior and try to find someone in charge. ☆

There’s broken bits of glass everywhere and a lot of it in my pants and underwear. I desperately try to remove them and not cut myself. ☆

(One night later) I’m confined in my grandparent’s house, someone who wants to harm me is inside too, and I freak out smashing the windows, screaming and shouting desperately. There’s broken glass all over the floor again. ☆

I’m writing my psychological biology exam and know that I’m failing. It’s kind of a multiple choice test and it has several pictures in which the examinees shall mark mistakes with a cross. I somehow know that there are parts of cells and their components on the pictures, but all I see are the vegetables I cooked the day before: green beans, broccoli, carrots, cauliflower…. The task makes no sense to me and I just tick the broccoli on every picture and fail the test. ☆

I dream a lot these hazy days but can hardly recall all the pictures and appearing people, situations and moods.

Tonight I was chased by a woman from a religious cult. She shot me in an open street. I knew I was already dead but still conscious. I saw everything happening around but hoped she wouldn’t recoginze.

Though I was already dead I wanted to spread signs that could lead to my murderer later. I ripped some magazines apart and threw the pasges in all directions. I also had a booklet from the woman’s organization and ripped it in pieces, hiding one part of it in my pants.

I’m at a huge cafe with various seating areas. It’s not quite like a cafe I know in reality but nevertheless it looks familiar. There’s rooms in the back, too.
I’m talking to someone in a car with four people in it. Suddenly I realize that the person next to the one I’m talking to is my ex-boyfriend whom I didn’t meet but somehow wanted talk to for a long time.
Suddenly I’m in the car and sitting next to my ex. He looks younger, thinner and smaller than I expected and not as mature and attractive as I expected.

I’m in a big building now and I think it’s a school. There will be people of all ages later though. A killing spree is going on, someone wants to shoot me. Probably my ex or Michel.
He has a small but long black gun. One shot kills. I think someone gets shot and I can see a small bloody hole on the person’s back. Everybody in the labyrinthlike school building, a lot of people are screaming and trying to run away.
The shooting person who is trying to catch me wears a thick dark blue and red checked shirt.

We, me and all the other people, are running through the corridors of the big building and I feel like I could get shot every second and that the gunman knows exactly where I’m going.
At some point I’m in a room or corridor with a lot of high white lockers and think it’s the best idea to just hide inside one of them. As the corridor gets quieter because the majority of people ran away I see that more strangers are hiding in the lockers and that it’s not a good idea because he’ll be able to find me there. So I start running again. I feel bad because the whole situation is my fault. I’m extremely scared.

There’s a group of people, some clearly defined characters I can’t recall now. I’m not sure if they all want to catch me or help. They are discussing and planning something, I observe them.
And start running again. Through corridors and rooms. In one room there’s a milk glass door through which I see a lot of people running on the corridor behind. Someone is in the room with me and I warn that person that there’s a glass door and that we could be seen through it.

Everything gets quiet, everybody ran away. The room I’m now in looks like inside of a factory building. There’s only the group of people who I think wants to help me left. I dare to leave my hideout. I now think that it’s my ex who wanted to catch me. But he disappeared. We don’t know to where and how and why.
I’m looking up to some kind of wooden balcony and see a face.
“There he is” I say and point at him.
Someone asks the shooter “Why didn’t you say (your name is) ‘Michel’?”
“I didn’t think of that” the person answers.
It’s a thin guy wearing a costume that makes him look fatter and like a girl, he has a blond ponytail but a deep voice.

I now realize that the whole group is against me.

Another guy has the lathy black gun and almost shoots me but the gun goes to pieces. (Like in a bad movie, I think.)
I start running again. I’m outside now. There’s a low broad stone tunnel. I can see some rails, hoardings and high grass.
I try to crawl my way to escape.
I’m positive that I’ll be able to escape but I can hardly move forward.
I don’t know how to crawl I think as I wake up because my heart is hammering too hard to stay asleep any longer. ☆

I’m in my potential new, big apartment in an old building in Berlin. Someone tells me that the apartment is on the water. I cast a glance out of the window and I can see water. The sun is reflecting on a calm darkblue sea.

There’s a newspaper on the wooden table with a picture of our house in it. Through seeing this picture I realize the house is built on top of an old stone bridge. I look down through another window and realize that there is a muddy shallowly river below. The bridge is massive and broad, it seems to be stable, but I can’t figure where the water of the river can actually go through it. I know that there will be floods sometimes if we move into this apartment.

I’m talking to my future flatmate and he has a surprisingly deep voice. He then turns out to be another man.